Viel and her Bow
by ffa kid
Summary: A viera bounty hunter, her trusty weapon and the world of Ivalice.


"Thirty-six gil…"

The touch of the cold, sweating glass had reminded Viel of something, perspiration that triggered her viera mind. And in a rare lapsed moment, Viel let it ponder her memories.

Her fingertips weren't strangers to this type of touch. Those hands had felt many slippery objects before. Her bow's quiver during dewy morning hunts, many of them, came to mind.

But nothing quite like the now. Viel drummed her fingernails upon the glass for a moment more as she tried to gain back all of the thoughts that had just raced between those rabbit ears.

The bartender cleared his throat and said for a fourth time: "Thirty-six gil. You owe."

Viel drew out her pouch, counted out three tens, a five and a one and set them onto the countertop.

The bangaa behind the bar stared down at the coin then met her gaze. Viel pondered if she'd put counterfeits down on the bar (she'd never purchased a drink before). Her order was one she'd overheard another customer make just when she'd found room at the bar - a "Sprohm Bomb."

"Thanks," said the bangaa, feigning manners, "for nothing."

Viera don't like bangaa. Bangaa don't like viera. But Viel wasn't here to cause problems - yet.

She blindly plucked out three more coins and tossed them on the bar. Ninety-six gil for a drink that cost thirty-six.

The bartender swept his scaly palm over the coin and nodded.

* * *

Nostalgia doesn't suit viera. Yet, Viel let her fingertips rub her sweating glass of "Sprohm Bomb" a moment longer, trying to recapture the thoughts that just now escaped her.

Nothing resurfaced. The ice melted in her unsipped "Sprohm Bomb." Viel found a table in the corner - away from commotion - and turned her attention back to the assignment. The bow stayed slung over across her torso, as well as the satchel carrying her missiles, even while she sat. Dark leather leggings and boots, a dagger hidden in the right one. Dark green blouse concealing chainmail beneath.

Even a viera could loiter unnoticed in the crowded pub. Viel counted twelve bangaa (thirteen counting the bartender), seven humes, four fat seeqs, two nu mou and even three of her kind throughout the room. No moogles (not the moogle type of establishment). Viel's long ears twitched as she listened to portions of the room.

Two other viera in the opposite corner commanded most of the pub's attention. They were younger bunny ears. By their carefree movements, Viel could tell they weren't raised in the wood. They talked to men (flirted with them, even). They tolerated bangaa, too. They drank. They smiled. They danced. And a different admirer filled their drinks when required.

_No help from them,_ Viel thought. All the same, she crossed them off as threats as well.

The four seeqs, six of the bangaa and two of the humes occupied the counter, demanding refills from their drinkslinger. Sven was the bartender's name, Viel picked up. She also heard he didn't care for "that viera bitch in the corner," despite Viel's generous tip.

The countertop group was a reasonable threat if things escalate. But Viel was the sober one.

Two bangaa, the third viera, the two nu mou and a hume shared the pub's largest booth in another corner of the room. A clan in celebration. A successful mission with a night cap.

Even imbibed, the clan could be dangerous. The viera was trained. Nu mou mages. Their ringleader, the man, in particular high spirits.

Viel sensed they weren't especially loyal to the room, though.

One ice cube stirred in Viel's undisturbed drink.

* * *

Viel caught Sven glaring at her from the bar. His patrons turned their heads as well. She gazed back and tilted her "Sprohm Bomb" to her lips, letting the liquid cleanse her mouth but swallowing none of it. The countertop turned back. She spit the bitter concoction back into its glass.

"Jus'a stan'offish viera bitch," said one of the men and the group burst into laughter.

It was him. The target. The bounty. Sitting between two fat seeqs, banging the very sterling silver gauntlet he allegedly stole onto the counter.

Percival Welch. Wanted for fraud - a fake materials exchange with some gullible clans in Cadoan, apparently, along with a few other petty ripoffs. Four thousand gil dead, seven grand alive.

The judges in Sprohm made killing Percival a crime anyway.

With their backs turned, Viel dumped her drink over her shoulder and moved back to the bar for a refill.

* * *

Sven glowered at Viel as she took the stool opposite her mark. She summoned fifty gil from her pouch. Contemptuous Sven grabbed the coin and returned with her fresh "Sprohm Bomb."

"Keep the change," Viel said. Sven said nothing.

The seeqs next to Percival were clearly associates. Most likely hired help. Viera don't care for seeqs either, but their predictable nature and motives at least made them more reliable than bangaa, even men. The fatter the seeq, Viel found, the more prone he was to apathy too.

Percival's seeqs were portly, even by seeq standards.

The rest of the bar was harder to read, except for Sven. A distaste for viera. The fellow bangaa seemed in lock step with the barman. And the other two seeqs were, well, being fat seeqs.

The conflict should only come down to Percival and his seeq friends, even if Viel didn't have the bar's full endorsement.

Viel's ears twitched. A man approached from behind. She felt for her dagger.

"Bartender!" It was one of the humes trying his luck with the young city vieras.

No weapons. Crooked hat. Sweat stains. Slurred speech. Beer gut.

Not a threat, Viel surmised. Her grip on her blade loosened.

"He-hey Steven!" said the man. Sven growled, but the hume paid no mind. "How ya goin' buddy?"

"Cut you off I think…" Sven murmured.

The man hadn't heard, distracted by the viera giggles behind him. The one on the left blew a kiss.

"Let's get three more drinks," said the man, holding up two fingers. "And a—and a- and a swig of that stuff ya got."

Sven made the order.

"Ninety-six gil…"

The man felt around his pockets.

"Hang on - hang on… it's sooooomewheeere…."

"Ninety-six gil," Sven growled. "Or I'm kickin' ya out."

Viel laid three 100-gil coins on the counter.

"I got it," she said. Sven squinted his eyes. She could afford to win his favor.

_Seven-thousand gil, alive,_ she reminded herself.

"Nice!" said the man. "You wanna join my bed - my uh tabe-"

"Shut up," Viel said.

"S-s-sorr-"

Viel shot the hume a glare.

"Go. Away."

Sven swept the coin into his hand.

"Go," he hissed. The man stumbled off.

Viel dug out two more 100 coins and flipped them to Sven. His stare caught hers.

"Buy the countertop a round," Viel said, leaving her seat and her untouched Sprohm Bomb. "Stay out of my way…

"And sorry about the mess…"

* * *

Percival's shoes didn't even reach the footrests on the bar. Short even by human standards.

Neither he nor his seeq friends seemed to notice Viel approach them, their backs still turned to her lost in a snarky discussion.

"Percival Welch," she said. The three cohorts turned.

"Ma friend's call me Percy," said the man addressed, swiveling his stool around to face the viera. "Which means yer not-ta friend, are ya?"

His seeq guards chortled. Bar commotion had ceased. Onlooking Sven didn't look apt to interfere.

"I don't make friends," Viel said, flipping the bounty slip to Percival's feet. "You're coming with me."

Percival hopped off the stool and pondered the bounty slip. Viel put on her gloves.

"Well in't that a han'some mug," Percival said. His seeq friends snorted. "Four _thousan'_ dead? Seven _gran'_ alive?! They mus' not know ever'ting I done!"

The two seeq bellowed with laughter, now standing and hoisting their hammers.

"Now then. Figurin' on y're tryin' ta take me 'live then, seein' as them judges her in Sprohm don' believe in killin'." Percival kicked the bounty parchment aside. "These friens o' mine here, though? They not ezzackly law abidin', see? An' by my count, y're out numba'd, missy."

Viel didn't stir, but he brought up a fair point.

_If only we were in the jagds,_ she thought. _It _would _be easier just to kill him._

The seeq to Percival's right downed his full mug, crumpled it and belched.

"No reason ta bring harm to a v'luptuous bunny like ya'self, now," Percival said. "So, piss off! Las' warnin'."

"You're shorter than I imagined," Viel said. "Easier to haul."

The seeq on the left swung first, an inebriated hammer thrust. Viel shifted right, her ears rustling with the wind of the swing as the head of the weapon crashed into the hardwood floor, splintering the boards.

Viel ducked below the second seeq's swing. He lost grip and the hammer launched across the bar, spiraling toward the viera admirers. The terrified group dove apart as the hammer smashed through the bar window. Incredibly, the bargoers had enough of their wits to dodge it, even the viera dolls.

"Asshole!" screamed Sven.

Viel snapped off the handle of the first hammer with her boot, leaving two disarmed, drunk seeqs.

_Where'd you go, 'Percy?'_

She dodged the first seeq's lunge, sending him stumbling toward the clan's table, and spotted the tiny hume scampering toward the exit. In a blink, Viel slung the bow off her shoulders and armed the string.

_Oooofff!_

The second seeq's fist clobbered into Viel's ribs. Her shot skimmed Percival's shirt, giving the tiny man pause, but only briefly interrupting his escape.

The blow knocked the wind from Viel. She clutched her chest. The second seeq clutched both hands above for a pile drive.

The gasping viera rolled out of the way, the seeq's hands crashing through the hardwood, and she sheathed another arrow. Percival's hand was on the door handle.

_Seven thousand gil - alive._

Her missile stabbed through Percival's childlike calf and the half-man howled in pain.

Wheezing, Viel narrowly dodged another swing from the second seeq, but her move swept her into the grasp of his partner. His barrel hug tightened as she watched the second seeq wind up for another blow.

Viel kicked her boot heel back into her captors groin. The seeq's grip released and he barreled over in agony. Viel slipped away just as the second seeq's fist had arrived, a friendly-fire punch to his partner's skull, rendering the first seeq into an unconscious carcass.

"You idiot!" Percival howled from afar.

_One to go._

Viel's breath returned. Ducking her final opponent's swing, she swept the bow underneath his portly legs. The goon tripped face-first into the floor.

He got to his feet one final time, grunting and crouching for a final charge.

"Wha're ya waitin' for!" screamed Percival.

Viel sheathed her bow. No shots required. A lizard-like hand smashed a barstool into the teeth of the seeq, sending the fat figure down in a thud that shook the pub. Sven tossed the splintered stool legs aside, towering over the fallen seeq.

Percival wailed.

"Shut up," said the bartender.

* * *

Viel studied Percival's wound and admired her work. The stab did enough to puncture his lower leg, immobilizing him, but it hadn't punctured any veins that were vital to life. She gagged and bound Percival, who's whimpers were the only sound to be heard in the now empty bar.

"Relax, halfling," she said. "You're going to live."

She then helped Sven make the most of the mess her fight caused. By the end of the night, two unconscious seeq laid heaped in the corner, their weapons (one broken) set aside along with the remains of a once perfectly good barstool and shards of window glass. One "manhole" sized crater where a hammer struck earlier and another fist-sized dent made for floorboard eyesores neither Sven nor Viel could do anything about at the moment.

"The weapons should fetch nice coin," Sven said. Bangaa aren't normally conversation starters, especially not with viera. "The fat fellows ought to fetch a fine too."

He turned to her.

"That'll pay for the floor," he said.

Viel stretched out a hand.

"I told you to stay out of my way," she said. "Thank you."

Sven's hand greeted hers.

"They were wrecking my bar," he said as they shook. "You can take a punch."

Bow slung back over her shoulders, Viel grabbed Percival by the hood and dragged her bounty to the door.

"You should clan up," Sven said.

"I work alone," said Viel and she left.

* * *

The streets of Sprohm were nearly empty as the night inched toward morning. "Percy" was a surprisingly obedient prisoner in his exhaustion. As Viel tugged her limping bounty by rope, the two took the alleyway for the city outskirts. She contemplated the days ahead.

Normally, Cadoan was a three-day journey from Sprohm. But Viel had no wish to travel through the Nubswood. They'd veer instead into the Giza Plains and take the Lutia Pass instead. This would add a full day to their trek, but it was the safer choice, allowing Viel to pay closer watch of her untrustworthy captive.

She yanked the rope and Percy's pace quickened.

"We stop when we reach the edge of Giza," she told him. Percy sighed in response. It would be hours before they arrived there and she would let him collapse.

Viel's ears perked. Something sharp was streaking toward her - fast. She dropped Percy's leash and turned in time to block the arrow aimed at her face with the edge of her bow.

A diversion. Viel turned and sheathed her bow toward the arrow's path, only to be met by the edge of a spear.

She wasn't careful enough. They'd been followed.

"Yield," said a man. Viel lowered her weapon, and looked beyond the spearhead.

Holding it was a bangaa. Two nu mou mages flanked him. Another bangaa stepped from the shadows, and the man - their clan leader - yanked Percy's leash to their side. The viera (the one who fired the warning shot), leapt down from her perch atop the adjacent building and aimed her bow at Viel.

It was the clan from the bar. The bangaa kept his point stiff on Viel's nose.

"We really should be thanking you," the clan leader said. "Our crew's been on this bounty for some time, but we didn't know how we were going to knock out the seeq guards. You took care of that for us. If we knew we could trust you, you'd be welcome to join our team and we could split the bounty. Evenly, amongst us seven, of course…"

"That won't even cover half of my efforts," Viel said. "And I work alone."

"You're in no position to bargain," chimed one of the nu mou.

Viel studied their party again. The bangaa's weapon didn't waiver.

"I won my last fight," she said. "I like my chances in this one."

"It won't come to that," said the clan leader.

The nu mou waved his staff. Viel felt her eyes grow heavy.

"Fifty-fifty," she said, buckling.

But it was too late. The clan leader bent over her.

"Don't follow us," said the man. "We won't be this cordial next time."

The nu mou's sleep spell took over and Viel collapsed to the pavement.

* * *

It was daylight when Viel opened her eyes again. She was slumped in the alley. The clan long gone, several hours into their journey to Cadoan, surely. Percival Welch with them.

The bow and her ammunition leaned against her. This was the clan's incentive: Keep the bow, leave the bounty.

She shuffled to the main road. It was a day like any other in Sprohm. The city, all the races in Ivalice carried on unaware of her recent plight.

_Seven thousand gil, _Viel thought.

She slung her weapon over her shoulder and started in the direction of the Nubswood….


End file.
